Tomorrow You Might Be Dead
by lifeisurdream
Summary: This Buffy crossover examines our favorite heroine, Buffy Summers, on multiple quests in multiple dimensions. All she wants to do is save her world, but on the way she may just find herself doing a lot more that that. Rated T because nothing is ever certain.
1. Pilot

**Pilot**

The young woman slipped out of the house rather early—one might even say _suspiciously_ early. If not for the emptiness of her hands, she'd have been taken as a street hooligan out to make some mischief (that is, if anyone had been awake to see her). But no, the wary blonde was more careful than she cared to admit. She was dressed for war, donned in dark wash jeans, combat boots, and a soft red hooded sweater that kept the wind from slapping her cheeks. Fishing keys out of her pocket, she cursed the shakiness of her fingers as the engine revved and she softly closed the car door. Squeezing her eyes and hoping Willow wasn't doing some early morning yoga, she turned out of her driveway.

She told herself it was a good thing that she was doing. It couldn't be _that_ bad, right? With a slight grimace at her own enthusiasm (or rather, lack thereof), she merged onto the vacant highway, only pausing briefly in her inner pep talk to watch for anyone who had the right of way. Returning to her thoughts, she found a bit of warmth as she thought of Dawn, peacefully dreaming, blissfully unaware of the ceaseless dangers threatening to run over their front door. Buffy blocked the pang of guilt she felt, reminding herself that Faith and Willow would take care of her Dawn. And besides, Dawn was strong too. Tearing away from her thoughts, she stared at the darkened street up ahead, watching the first trickling of sunlight paint the sky dark blue, a welcome change from the starless black that had been in its place just an hour before.

It had been awhile since she'd driven so much, she mused. Usually it was from home to work and back, then out fighting demons wherever they were stirring up trouble. Cleveland was no Sunnydale, but then again there practically _was_ no Sunnydale anymore, so they really couldn't compare. It wasn't that she missed living near a Hellmouth (far from it, actually), but it was more like she was the peaceful dreaming Dawn was enduring now: she wanted people to be blissfully unaware. Think of the panic it would ensue, she told herself, if they knew of every ill-wishing demon and crazed nutcase she came across. She thought of herself as a more bizarre version of the CIA, and left it at that. Pretty soon she'd close two Hellmouths as opposed to just the one, though she admitted that there was a significant amount of help that went into play at the last one. She winced, not wanting to take herself back to that day. They were lucky that the town had evacuated: it was the first time she actually thanked the people of Sunnydale for their common sense. No one who wasn't involved got hurt—she blanched, forcing herself to stop thinking of those who _were_ involved and who _did_ get hurt.

"No," she said quietly, hoarse voice barely above a whisper. That had been years ago, and everything was fine. Everything was _fine_. They had all moved on and no one was dwelling on the past anymore. It was 2007, and everything was fine.

Sucking in the cold Seneca, Pennsylvania air, Buffy sorted out her emotions, checking her reflection in her rear view mirror to make sure the worry lines had melded back into her face. Parking in front of the warehouse, she took a few deep breaths before stepping into the fray.

"Hello?" she called out, the word cracking as it came out. Clearing her throat, she tried again. "I'm here."

She frowned, getting a little worried. She surveyed her surroundings, but there were no other buildings for miles. She glanced behind her only to find that Spike's Desoto (graciously left to her before he went gallivanting into the heat of danger only to be left behind) was nowhere to be seen. She stretched her arm out in front of her in case she could still feel it. No such luck. Sighing, Buffy trudged across the seemingly endless gravel and knocked on the warehouse door. She waited a full fifteen seconds before barging in, but she'd barely taken a step when she caught the pungent odor of formaldehyde.

Her face a portrait of queasy unease, Buffy's teeth clenched in distaste. The warehouse was filled with rows and rows of jarred specimens. Cautiously entering, Buffy had made it past the third aisle of "recreational use" jars (she refused to consider the implications of that) when she finally heard the silvery voice that made her blood freeze in her veins and the hair on her arms bristle.

"Slayer! So glad you could make it." There was a sinister smile somewhere in his words, and as much as she hated anything that had to do with the demon's perfect set of teeth, Buffy forced herself to turn around.

"Because I had so much of a choice," she shot back, taking in his gruesome appearance. Which, by the way, (and she'd _never_ admit this,) made her heart beat just a little faster. It had taken some time at first to remember that he was not, in fact, Angel, and that Angel was, in fact, still in California.

"My dear," he replied, lips curling into an abhorrent expression she'd never seen Angel wear, "there is always a choice. You've just made the right one." He was in black slacks and a dark shirt and his finger sported a bastardized version of Angel's Claddagh ring. Dark amusement rose in the back of Buffy's mind. If anything, she could at least count on the ring to remind herself that he wasn't the real deal.

"I don't think you get to decide what's right and wrong, given your history with the two," she said softly, though she knew from the way his face darkened that he'd heard her.

"Slayer, you wound me. Do you think I cannot see when the right decision has been made? It's not as though I take the darker path for my _benefit_ —well, it is for my benefit, and so I see where you come from there— but do not think that I don't wish you the best. It's not _my fault_ I was made to accompany the Slayer in all her affairs—"

"No, it's just your fault that you try to grab her attention by harvesting human remains as well as _live people_ ," she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest and letting her sleeve rest over her nose to guard herself from the smell.

He continued as if she hadn't said a word. "And furthermore, you're quite lucky to actually be meeting me. I was a bit of a celebrity back in my day." Cue the exaggerated sigh.

"Oh, I'm sure I'm very lucky," she mumbled under her breath.

"Besides, what you're about to do will effectively close the Cleveland Hellmouth, which I'm sure you've noticed has been increasingly more active now that the Sunnydale debacle messed with the balance of things."

Buffy heaved a resigned sigh, nodding slightly. There were many unintended consequences of what was now being called "The Sunnydale Downfall," consequences that she now had to accept responsibility for. It wasn't entirely her fault, but the world had been at odds with itself for some time anyway, and it was time to balance the chaos with, ironically, more chaos.

His eyes softened for a moment and he simply looked at her. She stared back, fighting the constant urge to wrap her arms around him. It was so hard to see Angel but not have him there, so difficult to forget all that they went through when faced with this demon.

"You have a question," he said flatly. It wasn't accusing or surmising. It was a statement and it was true.

"Many," she replied, searching his face—or rather, Angel's face— for any sign of obvious deceit.

"Go on," he encouraged, a savage glint in his eye that felt eerily familiar.

"Why?" she asked. It wasn't obvious what she meant, but she knew he'd answer anyway.

He looked momentarily amused. "Why do I look like Angelus?"

"Angel," she corrected weakly, not really feeling up to the banter anymore. Her stomach was churning unpleasantly from the smells.

"Angel," he amended. He seemed to think for a moment before answering. "Thus far I've only told you that I am attached to the Slayer of each generation. Thanks to you," he shot her a glare that showed just how venomously thankful he was, "there are now thousands of Slayers around the world. Your witch friend managed to unleash the power, but in doing so she also unleashed me. I am unnamed, Slayer. There is no classification for me. I reside in your darkest fears, in your deepest regrets. There is no banishing me now. I know not why I take so much joy in watching you squirm, but I suppose that Angel makes you uncomfortable to the point that a small, minuscule part of your mind wishes to never see him again."

If Buffy could gape, she would have gaped. The stench of the room forbade that action, but her disbelief was all the same.

"That's not possible. I love— _loved_ Angel." She caught herself in time, well aware that it had been too long for her to still cling to his memory as a safety blanket. It was 2007 and everything was fine.

"How interesting. Perhaps, Slayer, your Angel is not as fond a memory as you might think. Memories are warped by our perception, after all. Perhaps you may still love him—" he said as he held up a hand to silence her protest (quite literally, as not a sound could come from her throat despite her attempts to voice her disagreement), "but only in the way that every human loves their first love. Your first love, Slayer, is not something to be taken lightly. You will never forget him. However, you want to; at least, a very small part of you does. That is what makes me take his form. Your unwillingness to admit that you wish he were gone does not change the fact that you do wish he would disappear. I hypothesize that the reason you wish he were not of this world anymore is related to your inane innate belief that Angel going away would mean the pain of being the Slayer going away too. He is the strongest reminder of your burden, so you have condemned him in your heart for that reason. Of course, such a belief, logically, is not the case, but human emotions are rather illogical, are they not?" He chuckled to himself.

"Now," he continued, waving away his explanation as if he were waving off an offer to join a church rather than having just finished analyzing Buffy's unrealized thirst for Angel's demise, "on to more pressing matters. As promised, your world will be safe while you are away… elsewhere," he finished unsubtly. "Any questions?" He looked to her for prompting.

She pointed to her mouth, raising a brow at him. She still couldn't speak.

"No questions? Perfect!" He clapped his hands as she scowled at him and he groaned, rolling his eyes. "Oh, fine. Far be it from me to take the words out of your mouth, Slayer." He pointed at her and she tried her voice.

"Where am I going?" she asked.

"Far," he answered simply.

"When am I going?"

"Now."

"Why am I going?"

"Reasons," he replied dismissively. "I'm not so sure myself, but then again I've never questioned the natural order of things _unlike some people_." He shot her a pointed look and she shrugged.

"When you find a better way to stop the apocalypse, tweet me."

Sighing in light frustration, the demon pursed his lips and the ground shook beneath them. Looking around in near panic, Buffy realized after a second that it was his doing. Glaring at him blatantly, she watched as he began to chant. His words grew louder and louder and she watched as they left his mouth in the form of red runes in the air that circled her slowly at first, speeding up as his volume increased.

"If I die, I'll haunt him," she promised in a low voice, hoping that a certain amount of resolve was enough to bring her beyond the grave and cast her back into the real world as an apparition.

No sooner had she said the words her body fell through the floor and then she was falling, falling, and all she could see was the black chasm around her as the ground swallowed her whole and the demon wearing Angel's face waved cheerfully from above.

* * *

Hello! My name is Sharkbait Anna. I hope you'll enjoy this story. Let me know of any mistakes you catch.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Buffy the Vampire Slayer franchise, anything relating to the Buffyverse, or any recognizable plot or characters from movies, series, books, or comics.

Thanks for reading,

lifeisurdream


	2. One

**One**

With a jolt of reality, Buffy woke. At first she was dazed, her vision blurry and her senses dulled. Then she blinked, finding herself gazing up at the sunlight streaming through the trees. There was a light canvas above her head that looked somewhat like a roof, and the cot she was laying in was warm. She stretched, yawning. If this was what that crazy old demon thought constituted one of her quests, she could certainly get used to it. No sooner had that thought come to her than her ears perked almost animal-like as she heard voices getting louder and louder. She froze, assuming a position that she hoped resembled natural sleep.

"And she will not hear our words in her state?" This came in the voice of an old man.

The voice that answered seemed younger, but somehow Buffy felt that that wasn't it. It was smooth and deep, severity dripping in every word, though his words came out in an amused tone. "My dear Gandalf, she could not hear a swordfight with an Orc if it were taking place beside her."

"Her position has changed since I saw her last."

There was a pause and a shifting of fabric.

"That it has, though I do not think there shall be any wakeful beings to listen to us in this room."

"As you were saying, then, old friend..."

The other man sighed. "The time of the Elves is over. My people are leaving these shores. Who will you look to when we have gone? The dwarves? They hide in their mountains seeking riches. They care nothing for the troubles of others." The elf (Buffy assumed as much) sounded bitter while mentioning the dwarves, as if he hated himself for even suggesting the idea. Buffy took care to stay perfectly still, her breathing hitching a little as she strained to listen.

"It is in Men that we must place our hope."

"Men? Men are weak. The race of Men is failing. The blood of Númenor is all but spent, its pride and dignity forgotten. It is because of Men the Ring survives." There was a pause before he spoke again. "I was there, Gandalf. I was there three thousand years ago when Isildur took the Ring. I was there the day the strength of Men failed." Buffy almost didn't catch his next words as she steeled herself, trying not to physically react as her mind raced. _Three thousand years? Woah._ "It should have ended that day," the elf continued, "Isildur kept the Ring and the line of Kings was broken. There's no strength left in the world of Men. They're scattered, divided, leaderless."

"There is one who could unite them, one who could reclaim the throne of Gondor."

Buffy could only imagine the expression to old-but-sounds-young elf was giving the Gandalf fellow in the small silence that followed.

"He turned from that path a long time ago. He has chosen exile."

"Perhaps... but perhaps our guest who is currently dropping eaves may have some insight."

Buffy's eyes fluttered open and she smiled sheepishly. "Uh... sorry about that. It's not every day I drop into a different dimension."

The two males looked at her with curious (if a little wary) gazes, and the elf (the ears gave him away, in Buffy's opinion) responded swiftly.

"If I may ask, dear Lady, what is this 'dimension' you speak of?"

Buffy blinked, looking at him. Her eyes missed nothing as she replied, taking in his long almond robes tied together by a cord, straight brown hair in part braided back, revealing his pointed ears and steely grey eyes. his skin was smooth and beige, disrupted only by his troubled visage.

"Dimensions. As in, I come from one, you two are from another... no? No bell-ringing of any kind? Okay," she sighed, swinging her feet over the side of the cot and sitting up. She wobbled only a little before standing confidently and facing them. Belatedly, she realized that maybe she wasn't meant to talk about her quest. Maybe she'd been tossed in with the bad guys and she was supposed to be fighting them. Maybe she wasn't supposed to tell anyone that she was here to save this world. Barely quelling the panic that had risen in her chest, Buffy took a deep breath and faced the two.

"How long have I been here?"

The elf looked taken aback at the question. "You fell from the sky, my Lady, a fortnight ago."

"Two weeks. Wait," she eyed him cautiously. "Two weeks ago? I've been here for _two weeks_?"

"That seems to be the case, yes," the other male replied, fingering his long grey beard. His blue-grey eyes twinkled kindly at her, and she looked away. Something about the his smile made her think that he knew too much, and that her explaining anything would just be a formality.

The hell with it, she decided. If they were evil, so what? The demon couldn't fault her for making a mistake on her first day.

 _My first day awake_ , she reminded herself. Whatever.

"So where am I? And who are you?" she asked, trying to delay her own explanation as much as possible.

"I am Gandalf the Grey, wizard." He looked to the elf and seemed to be speaking silent words of encouragement. True to his name, he was clad in long grey robes.

"I am Lord Elrond of Rivendell." The elf looked uneasily between Gandalf and Buffy.

They set their eyes on her. "So I'm in, uh, Rivendale?"

Elrond nodded severely, the two braid framing his face bouncing funnily. "This city of elves is called Rivendell. It is here you have been for the last two weeks, and of course Rivendell is a part of Middle Earth."

Buffy huffed in short confusion, running a hand through her hair. "Since you've been so kind... I'm Buffy, the Vampire Slayer. I, uh... I guess the whole falling-from-the-sky thing, as you've guessed, means I'm from another world. It's very different. We don't have elves, for one," she offered, nodding towards Lord Elrond. "Or dwarves. Or, uh, Orcs. We have people, though. And demons. Lots of demons. Ghosts. Witches. Leprechauns. Actually, no, no leprechauns," she corrected herself. "And , uh, vampires. Who I slay, so... any questions?"

"A few," Lord Elrond replied, his lips tightening in a way that made Buffy think he didn't like her too much.

"Yes, what are vampires?" Gandalf asked, smiling that curious smile that made her uncomfortable but also made her think that if he offered a cookie she'd take it.

"They're uh... dead people who come back to... life..." After seeing the look on Elrond's face, she rushed forward with her explanation. "They're kind of like the undead. They're strong and cold and their faces change into this bumpy mess when they're fangs are out. They feed on human blood to survive, but you can kill them with a wooden stake to the heart. Which is what I do. Vampire Slayer." She chuckled nervously, pointing to herself. "But, you know, I also slay other things. Monstrous things. I, um... I banished a god once! Or, uh, god _dess_ , I guess. She kind of deserved it though." Buffy coughed before continuing. "So, anyway... I'm here because of some things I have to do. Preferably save this world, and then it's onto the next one for me. Sorry if I'm a little haphazard, but this is my first dimension quest, so..."

The males looked at one another, as if having some unspoken argument. After a few anxious minutes of silence, Gandalf broke it.

"I should very much like to think that you will be of use to our cause, Lady Buffy. The free peoples of Middle Earth are under threat from the Lord of the land of Mordor, Sauron, who seeks to destroy everything that stands in his path of ruling Middle Earth by enslaving us all."

Buffy nodded. "Makes sense. It's only been a century and a half since we abolished slavery but, uh, the general consensus is 'slavery bad, freedom good.'"

Elrond made a noise that in a less graceful creature would have qualified as a snort. "It's settled, then. You will join our Council as we decide what to do with the One Ring."

Buffy blinked. "I think I'm missing something here."

"The One Ring was forged by Sauron to control the free peoples, and it must be destroyed if we are to undermine his power."

"And how do we destroy it?"

"So soon after waking do you refer to yourself and others you have yet to meet in a collective 'we,'" Elrond noted.

"I'm here to save the world," Buffy said with a shrug. "If I need a lesson in catching things people say in the hopes of unraveling their master plan to trick all the good guys (which, let's be clear, doesn't exist), I'll give you a holler." The words might have been a little abrasive, but Buffy wasn't really a morning person anyway. Might as well advertise it.

Despite being told off by a short blonde, Elrond looked rather pleased. "Very well. I shall have a meal sent up for you. Do join us in the common area once you have fully regained your strength. Gandalf will be by to collect at such a time." He shot Gandalf a smug look and turned to leave. He stopped before stepping into the hallway, swiveling back. "It was nice to make your acquaintance, Lady Buffy." And with those words, he left, with Gandalf following after dipping his head in deference, the twinkle in his eye still as lively as before.

Buffy sat on the bed, pulling her knees up to her chest and thinking. When she looked around the room, she saw a dresser, stacks of scrolls filling a glass case, a rug of almond white covering most of the white stone floor. There were no windows, because the openings in the wall led directly to the grove gardens that tumbled from way above her room to below the waterfall she could hear rushing nearby. Nothing seemed temporary, and yet she couldn't help but feel like she was running out of time. She didn't know what would happen to her if she died on this mission, and she didn't feel like finding out any time soon. With determination filling her heart, she convinced herself to see the light in the situation. She was strong, she reminded herself, as well as resilient. She was Buffy Summers, and Buffy Summers was a force to be reckoned with.

Her thoughts were interrupted as a meek woman entered the room. She was in a long blue gown that billowed around her as she walked. Her skin was fair, her hair dark, her eyes a calm grey. She didn't seem like a servant; rather, a noblewoman who did not indulge in the finer things in life. She carried a plate of food, though, so Buffy tucked away her suspicions for later.

"Hello," Buffy said, mouth watering at the prospect of food.

"Hello, Lady Buffy. I am Arwen." She offered no other explanation. Instead, she offered the plate of sustenance and smiled.

Thinking manners to be irrelevant given her ravenous state, Buffy dove in, eating perhaps an unhealthy (and therefore quite unseemly) amount before stopping herself. She could have eaten more, but she didn't want to be rude (well, more than she already had been).

"It's nice to meet you," she said quietly, collecting her thoughts once more.

"It is also nice to meet you," Arwen said with a soft smile.

After a few minutes of thankful silence (Buffy and Arwen were mostly just enjoying each other's silent company, as women sometimes actually do instead of all the gossiping men often accuse them of), a familiar face poked into the room. Gandalf bowed his head slightly towards the two women and Arwen took that as her cue to leave.

"Lady Arwen," he murmured in acknowledgement. After she'd gone, he acknowledged Buffy. Buffy stood, proceeding to follow him through the halls of the House of Elrond until they arrived at a meeting place. She assumed this was the Council they had mentioned earlier, and took a seat next to Gandalf. Eyes turned to her in curiosity, and she fought a blush as she looked away, focusing her gaze instead on the center stone pillar-type thing in the middle of the room. For a room, it was rather roomy; like the room where she'd woken up, there were gaps instead of windows, and she could clearly see the falling autumn leaves against the breathtaking backdrop that was the landscape from her angle. She was suddenly wishing for Willow, and a pang of regret stabbed her before she reminded herself that Willow was one of the reasons she was doing this at all. She wished Arwen could have been here, but what would the girl do except hold her hand and keep quiet? Still, she wished there were a familiar face besides the enigmatic (and admittedly alliterative) Gandalf the Grey.

She watched in silence as people (a term she used loosely now, since there were short people she guessed were dwarves present, as well as elves) filed in and conversed among one another. The warrior in her couldn't help but assess her peers. She analyzed each figure for strengths and weaknesses. The stronger fighters were harder to find weaknesses for since hubris wasn't always the case, so she took it upon herself to stealthily keep a few in her observation. A short man sat on Gandalf's other side, but she didn't think him a dwarf. He wasn't stout enough for that. He looked tired though, so Buffy assumed that the journey to Rivendell must have taken some toll on him. He didn't look like much of a fighter, so she was curious as to his true purpose at the Council.

Before she was able to consult herself deeper on the matter, Elrond called order to the meeting.

"Strangers of distant lands," he announced, his gaze flicking towards Buffy for a split moment before continuing, "friends of old. You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite, or you will fall." He looked around at them severely, the seriousness of his tone apparent in every syllable.

"What a dramatic," Gandalf mumbled to Buffy under his breath. She stifled a snort.

Elrond glared at Gandalf before continuing. "Each race is bound to this fate. To this doom." For a moment Buffy thought with building panic that he was turning towards her, but he addressed the short brunette next to Gandalf. "Bring forth the ring, Frodo." He gestured for him to step forward.

The small man with the curly brown hair stepped forward and placed a small gold ring in the middle of the center stone. He then sat back down.

It didn't look like much: the ring was a single gold band without inscription or embellishment, but regardless Buffy felt a tug in her gut towards it. She wanted it—no, she _needed_ it and it needed her. She was the only one powerful enough to take it. She could use it for so many...

Buffy shook her head, wondering where in the world those thoughts had come from. Now that she looked at it, it wasn't really something to look forward to having. She was wondering where her burning desire had come from when she looked up at the voices. Apparently people were surprised that the One Ring was now in their reach.

"It is a gift," some armored guy with flat brown hair was saying, stroking his shapely beard. He looked strong and had brutish features. Buffy had classified him as a strong fighter. "A gift to the foes of Mordor!" His eyes lit with almost greedy enthusiasm that was reflected in his next words. He stood as if to emphasize his words. "Why not use this Ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, held the forces of Mordor at bay... by the blood of our people are your lands kept safe." He seemed to be guilt-tripping them into giving it to him, which Buffy gathered would have been very clever if it weren't so obvious. "Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy; let us use it against him!"

"You cannot wield it," a voice cut in, making Buffy noticeably jump. How had she not noticed the hooded figure sitting directly across from her? Had she been so consumed by not drawing attention that she hadn't noticed anyone else who was doing the same? His hood fell back, and would have revealed his face if he hadn't been leaning back in slight shadow. "None of us can," he added, sounding oddly authoritative for someone not leading a band of people. Light filled his features as his face was interrupted by sunlight, and Buffy couldn't believe that she hadn't noticed a completely handsome stranger quite literally right before her eyes. She felt a bit guilty, so she listened to what he was saying extra hard: "The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master."

His tone wasn't lost on the other man, who turned and replied coolly, if a little condescendingly, "And what would a ranger know of this matter?"

The beautiful man took the higher path and didn't respond, and the other guy's lips quirked in a small, victorious smugness.

A blonde elf stood tall, apparently friends with the handsome man and quick to defend his friend. "This is no mere ranger," he declared. "He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance."

This whole deal was lost on Buffy, but it seemed to have some significance to the other guy because then he said, "Aragorn? This is Isildur's heir?" His disbelief clouded his features and filled his tone.

"And heir to throne of Gondor," he pressed indignantly.

Aragorn said something to his elf friend in a language that Buffy didn't recognize as the other man grumbled defiantly, "Gondor needs no king." Both elf and man sat down again.

"Aragorn is right," Gandalf declared, abruptly ending the petty contention. "We cannot use it."

"You have only one choice," Elrond agreed. "The Ring must be destroyed."

"Then what are we waiting for?" a dwarf asked gleefully, standing and swinging his axe down upon the Ring. With a thunderous _crack_ , the axe shattered into pieces. The wedges of blade fell around the unscathed ring, and Buffy's mouth fell open in awe.

"The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloin, by any craft that we here possess." His words were lightly admonishing. "The ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom... only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor, and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came. One of you," he said, looking around the room, "must do this."

The bearded man from before was the first to break the silence that followed Elrond's words: "One does not simply walk into Mordor. Its black gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep, and Great Eye," he said, making a gesture with his hand that roughly resembled the shape of an eye, "is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire and ash and dust... the very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly."

"Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said? The Ring must be destroyed!" The angry blonde elf got to his feet.

"And I suppose you think you're the one to do it," jeered the dwarf from before.

"If we fail, what then?" the brutish man argued bitterly, standing once more. "What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?"

The dwarf rushed to his feet, declaring, "I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an elf!"

This seemed to set off the elves, who stood as if to fight despite the blonde elf's attempt at staying their rage. The dwarves soon followed, and then the men. The entire room broke out in argument, each male bickering pointlessly. Buffy jumped up, breaking apart those who looked ready to come to blows. Even Gandalf, it seemed, was not immune to the stupidity of the discourse.

"I will take it... I will take it!" the short brunette man, Frodo, exclaimed at the top of his lungs. The argument quieted, and all faced him. Buffy tried to keep the dubiousness out of her expression. "I will take the ring to Mordor." He didn't seem to confident, but Gandalf's encouraging eyes prompted him to continue in a quieter tone. "Though... I do not know the way," he admitted.

Gandalf walked over to him, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins. As long as it is yours to bear."

Hotstuff Aragorn stepped forward, kneeling before the impossibly short man. "If by my life or death I can protect you, I will," he promised. "You have my sword."

"And you have my bow." The blonde elf was quick to follow his friend.

"And my axe," said Gimli the dwarf, something like pride in his light brown eyes.

"You carry the fate of us all, little one," said the bearded man. He looked around at everyone. "If this is indeed the will of the Council, then Gondor will see it done." He nodded as if to affirm his place.

Seizing her opportunity, Buffy spoke for the first time. "You have my protection, Frodo." She stepped forward out of Gandalf's shadow, her back straight with pride. She said in a low voice so only those nearest could hear, "I don't have a weapon yet, but then again, I _am_ the weapon."

They all gave her weird looks, but Frodo smiled brilliantly up at her, his blue orbs screaming sincerity. He dipped his head in a slight bow even though he was already much shorter than her. "It is an Honor, fair Lady, to have you by my side."

"Here!" a voice called out suddenly. The bushes outside the room shook and out popped another impossibly short man. "Mr. Frodo's not going anywhere without me!" he declared.

"No, indeed," said Elrond with a hint of amusement. "It is hardly possible to separate you... even when _he_ is summoned to a secret council and you are not."

Two other short ones popped out from another bush. "Oi! We're coming too!" said one. "You'll have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us."

Elrond swiveled to face them and looked more than ready to do just that when the other panted, "Anyway... you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission. Quest. Thing." He nodded, overconfident.

"Well, that rules you out, Pip," said the first. The second man frowned.

"Ten companions," Elrond said with a nod, his tone insightful. "So be it. You shall be the 'Fellowship of the Ring.'"

"Again with the dramatics," Buffy whispered to Gandalf, who responded with a chuckle.

"Great," said the second shortie, referred to as 'Pip' by the other. "Where are we going?"

The room burst in laughter, and Buffy was no exception. The council dispersed and the others went about their own business until only the ten companions and Elrond remained.

"If you have not been formally introduced, I shall not keep you in waiting much longer," said Elrond. Gandalf held up a hand to stop him.

"Allow me, old friend. I'm sure you have other businesses to attend to, this being your House." Elrond didn't miss the mischievous glint in the old wizard's eye, but bid them all adieu regardless. "You all know me as Gandalf the Grey. Dare I assume that I need no introduction?" There was a collective nod going all around the circle. Even Buffy joined in, not to eager to be left out.

"First, our Ringbearer, Frodo Baggins, accompanied by Samwise Gamgee." He gestured to Frodo, then to the first short man to jump out from the bushes. They nodded shyly at the others, Buffy included. "Then we have Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took. All Hobbits of the Shire." The latter part meant nothing to Buffy, but the others nodded in understanding.

"Ah, just Merry, Gandalf," said one of the Hobbits the wizard had just introduced. He gave a toothy grin that unsettled Buffy and made her feel like he'd just done something that he should have been scolded for. "And this here's old Pippin, Pip if you haven't got the time." The other Hobbit smiled genuinely and waved.

"You're not wearing any shoes," Buffy blurted out, just now noticing four pairs of hairy feet. She then looked ready to off herself because of the looks she was getting.

"We're Hobbits. I don't think Hobbits have worn slippers for a few good hundred year," Pippin said, looking around at his fellow Hobbits. They seemed to agree with him.

"You're not wearing shoes either, Miss," Samwise pointed out. Then his face took on a look of horror as he realized he'd been rude from the frown on her face. "I'm so- forgive the impertinence, my Lady—"

Buffy looked down. Despite Samwise's assessment, she'd been frowning for a different reason. She was barefoot? She'd had no idea. "Am I?" She poked a foot out from under her robes. "So I am! Touché, Mr. Gamgee. You're very right—and don't look at me with those eyes. All is forgiven and forgotten." She smiled at him generously, letting him know that she didn't think him rude at all. Buffy didn't know what was happening with her speech, but it seemed like she was speaking in the vernacular of this world: her words were more formal and way more verbose than usual.

Verbose? _Verbose_? Where had _that_ come from?

"Right." Buffy suspected that Gandalf was resisting the urge to roll his eyes. She flushed in embarrassment, hoping they'd forget that little outburst. "And this is Aragorn, as you all know from his rather unflattering debut in front of the entirety of the council." He shot a lightly critical look at the blonde elf and the bearded man with the flat brown hair. Both males locked eyes and then looked away, in pure distaste of one another.

"Hello," Aragorn said politely, nodding to each of the companions. Buffy felt her lips tug in a smile.

"Beside Aragorn is the Sindarin elf Legolas. He is quite handy with his longbow, I'll have you know. I would not want to be on the end of it." Legolas shot a cool (if a little smug) look at the yet-to-be-introduced bearded man.

"Me neither," Pippin whispered to Merry.

Gandalf ignored the interruption, carrying on. "Our dwarf friend, as you also know, is Gimli, son of Gloin. As Legolas wields his bow, Gimli wields his axe."

Gimli gave a solemn nod to each of the members, his body going stiff when it came to the elf. He heaved something that sounded much like a fake, exaggerated cough. Legolas looked away, playing at aloofness (it wasn't so hard, seeing as he was a lot taller).

"Beside Gimli is our friend from Gondor, Boromir, son of Denethor II who you all know is the Steward of Gondor."

"It is an honor to join the cause. Long have my people suffered at the hands of Sauron and his dark forces. It is fitting that a true son of Gondor fight for the ensurance of their liberty." His words sounded innocent and honorable enough, but Legolas and Aragorn shared a look that made Buffy think there was something in there that may not have been a compliment to Aragorn. Probably the "true son of Gondor" part.

Gandalf didn't nod, but somehow he seemed to acknowledge Boromir's with the smallest bit of respect he owed him. All eyes turned to Buffy and she coughed into her elbow.

"This is the Lady Buffy. I daresay I might not be qualified to give an adequate introduction." Gandalf smiled kindly at her, his eyes twinkling with ferocious curiosity. His expression handed her the floor.

She stepped forward. "It's great to meet all of you. I'm Buffy. I'm here to help. I think that's all for now."

"If I may be so bold, my Lady," Boromir requested while stepping up, "from which place do you hail?"

Buffy shrugged. "Does it matter? I'm here now, and time is of the essence, or whatever it is you say here. We don't have time to get to know each other as much as we'd like. We'll probably end up inadvertently doing so anyway. Let's just get on with this quest. I don't see the point in not resting up for the morning." She looked to Gandalf. "We are leaving in the morning, aren't we?"

"I should think so, if the stars are in our favor."

Buffy grimaced. "The stars are rarely in my favor." She looked at Frodo and sent him what she hoped was a hopeful smile. "Let's hope you have better luck."

And with that, the band disbanded. Aragorn and Legolas stalked off somewhere together, while the four Hobbits (Buffy still wasn't sure what they were) skipped away. Gimli, son of Gloin, muttered something about trying his luck with gamble on a dwarf vs. elf duel, and Gandalf and his cane sought Lord Elrond. Sighing softly, Buffy exited the hall and started down a winding path that she felt instinctively would lead her to the waterfall. She heard footsteps following cautiously (and very, very quietly) behind her. Finally, she stopped at a grassy clearing and spoke in a loud, clear voice.

"You can come out now. You've been tailing me since the meeting area."

She wasn't too surprised to find Boromir emerge from the trees looking sheepish. "My Lady has the ears of an elf. I was not within earshot... not within the earshot of a Man, that is."

Buffy sat down on the grass, letting the robes she'd been lent splay around her as if she were in the middle of the sea, a lone island floating in all the blue. "I am a woman," she teased, grinning up at him. "You can't possibly have the same expectations for a woman as you do for a man. That's a little shifty. It's like saying, 'oh, you poor fishies can't climb trees like... like animals that can climb trees can.'"

"Squirrels?" he offered, his fighter stance not relaxing.

She nodded. "Or bears."

He looked doubtful. "Bears can't climb trees."

"Have you ever seen one try?"

He paused. "No," he admitted after a moment.

"Exactly. Where I come from, it's a common occurrence."

"Your bears climb? For what reason?"

She shrugged. "Food. Fun. Maybe a little bit of both."

"And where is this land where bears climb great oaks?"

She fixed him with a playful glare. "Ha, ha. Nice try. You're about as subtle as a bear climbing a tree."

"You are not wrong, fair maiden." He sat down across from her, seeming a lot more relaxed than he'd been a minute ago.

"Why the fixation on where I'm from?" she asked.

"Why the evasion of the subject?" he shot back.

She held up her hands in defense. "It was just a question."

"So it was," he replied. She noted that his tone needing a desperate defrosting if he hoped to continue talking to her.

Buffy didn't answer, instead picking a dandelion from the ground and playing with it in her palm.

He sighed after a minute. "Forgive me, my Lady. I was taught that a Man's origin gave weight to his character, and that a Man who evaded the simplest of questions could not have the best interests of others at heart.

"Perhaps that is true of men," she replied, invoking his icy tone from before. Whatever this guy thought he was doing, she definitely wasn't going to let it work. "I could very well lie, and you'd be more satisfied with a false answer than an honestly blank one."

"Forgive me," he tried again. "I must remember to tread softly when it comes to you, fair Lady. I know I am undeserving of the softness of your heart, but if I may only ask... why is it that you have joined this quest?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I see reason for the Hobbits: the Ringbearer must depend on his friends if he is to carry the treacherous burden that is the One Ring; the elf and dwarf must remain to represent their respective races; the ranger, as much as I do not care to say, knows the land and has talent seeking those he needs; the wizard provides comfort, warmth, and knowledge; I represent men and the crest of Gondor. What is it that you do for this so-called 'Fellowship of the Ring'?"

"Perhaps I represent women," she proposed, feigning thoughtfulness.

He snorted. "If you were to represent women, you would not be here," he argued. "There are few uses of women in war."

The slow-burning flames in Buffy's eyes broke their barriers, and her expression became civilly livid. "On the contrary," she spat venomously, "as men die in the fight, women take on all the work that men leave behind, including the _care for posterity_. As men fight left and right in the most obvious way, women _keep the country going_. Maybe in this land you won't see the true uses of a woman as you're constantly at war, but do consider this: if not for women, _you wouldn't have anything to fight for_." Passion flooded her words, and Boromir was surprise at her vehemence. "I assure you, women fight. We fight harder and longer and with more blood on our hands than you will ever know, Boromir, son of Denethor. I fight the fight every day, and yet I still get misogynistic pigs like you asking me if I'm useful. Though I haven't proven my trustworthiness yet, _dear sir_ ," her voice had taken on a severe sarcastic bitterness as she said this, "trust me when I say that when you see me fight, whether it's in the obvious way that men do or the subtle way of women, you will not know that there is a better man or woman than the woman you see before you."

"My Lady is tired," Boromir said after collecting himself. "If—"

"I am not _tired_ ," Buffy snapped, scrambling to her feet. "I am correct, which is not a synonym for tired unless you're as dense as a fish trying to climb a tree." She stormed away from the clearing, her gown billowing around her and giving the effect of wading through ocean waves (even though the gown slowed her down, it only made her that much more determined to get away from Boromir). She felt only a little repentant that she hadn't gotten up close to the waterfall, but she supposed there'd be time for that later. Right now, she had to make a point.

She didn't know exactly where her feet were carrying her, but she didn't exactly care. It seemed that the walkways of Rivendell new where she was going so that she didn't have to. She liked the city; it felt alive, and full of old magic. Since Willow's brief intermission as a powerful and destructive overlord (or was it overlady?) of magic, Buffy wasn't one to shy away from benevolent variations of sorcery. Rivendell was a place of magic: that much was certain. She vaguely recalled that Elrond had mentioned the elves having some kind of magic. She was lost in thought and homesickness when she saw a familiar face turn into the path.

"Arwen," she acknowledged with a smile.

The girl dipped her head in respect. "Lady Buffy. How does the day find you?"

"Well," Buffy replied cheerfully. Something about the girl made her feel calm. It was like having an actual friend. "Although, I did defend women to that pompous Steward-prince."

Arwen smiled, a light laugh escaping her lips. "I daresay you taught him a lesson." She gestured to the path she'd just gone down. "Come, I have been seeking you. We must be sure you are ready for your journey tomorrow."

Buffy huffed quietly in relief. "No offense, but... this gown is a bit much for me. I don't get the feeling I'm meant to travel with haste in it."

A laugh lit up Arwen's eyes, but the fair elf just nodded with a sheepish grin. "The color suits you, my Lady, but I did not think you would wear it in the long term." She lifted her skirt and began to gracefully rush to the room Buffy had used before. "Come, we must fit you."

Buffy followed (though much less gracefully) and was relieved to see an array of weapons on the bed. "Oh, thank God," she said, taking the ribbon that had kept her hair in braids and fashioning a makeshift up-do. "I was starting to think I'd only have my fists to assist me."

"The elves are known for generosity," Arwen commented. "Though just between you and I," she said in a more hushed tone with an air of mischief, "I think my father just likes to be able to say he helped for the sake of all Eldar politically." Her face flushed, her fair skin tainted by her embarrassed blush.

"Who's your dad?" Buffy asked, amused.

She frowned. "I thought you were told. My father is Lord Elrond."

"Oh," Buffy said, inclining her head to privately reflect on that. "Isn't he, like, over three thousand years old?"

"I'm nearly twenty-eight hundred," she pointed out.

"Oh," was all Buffy could say.

"Arwen," said a voice from the doorway. Her face noticeably brightened and she rushed to the door, her grace hindered only slightly by enthusiasm. Buffy turned and saw Aragorn nod in her direction in acknowledgement before speaking in a low voice. If Buffy had normal hearing, she probably wouldn't have heard their words. But Buffy was anything but normal.

"I should very much like to speak with you, my Lady," Aragorn was saying.

"I cannot abandon Lady Buffy; she needs me at this time. She comes from a foreign land, as my father has surely discussed with you by now."

Aragorn sighed. "I understand." His tone was a tiny bit reproachful.

"I don't mind," Buffy said suddenly, turning to face them.

Arwen's face reddened. "I should not like to waste your time, Lady Buffy."

"I'd be wasting yours if I bothered you with my penchant for weapons," she replied easily. "Really, I'll be examining them far too closely for this part to be interesting. Just hurry back when you're done with your... private conversation." She sent a smirk Arwen's way and the beautiful girl only got more flustered.

"I thank you, my Lady. I shall struggle to repay your kindness, but I am ever thankful." Aragorn bowed.

Buffy snorted as they slowly went away together. "If kindness was a thing to be repaid, the whole world would be in debt."

She sighed, looking over the weapons. Buffy picked up the broadsword, flipping it in her palm to watch the light bounce off of it. It wasn't heavy, but for some reason she felt like it should have been. She sheathed it and picked up a few knives. They were oddly shaped, and since each handle had a hole big enough for two fingers, she suspected they were meant to be aerodynamic. She eyed the longbow for a moment before picking up the axe instead. It wasn't that she couldn't handle it, but she'd had more practice with crossbows and wasn't too sure she could accurately shoot with a longbow. Besides, she was always more of a smash-smash-kill kind of girl anyway. Hand-to-hand was her forte.

She put aside some of the throwing knives and the axe and was examining the sword once more when she heard Arwen's voice behind her.

"Do you like them? i picked them all myself."

"That was quick," Buffy noted casually, sending another smirk the other girl's way. "I'm glad that if someone had to have dibs on Aragorn, it was you."

Despite her blush, the she-elf's brows furrowed quizzically. "Dibs?"

"Sorry," Buffy replied. "I meant that he's yours, that's all. You seem to really like him."

"I love him," she said somewhat proudly, the tips of her pointed ears turning pink. "And he loves me..."

"So I guess age doesn't matter too much in interspecies romances here, either?" Buffy said, highly amused. She felt a little sorry for Angel and Spike, her two ex-lovers of the vampiric persuasion.

"I suppose not," Arwen said after a moment. "Though I am quite young for an elf. And Aragorn is eighty-seven."

"He's _what_?" Buffy barely choked out. "He doesn't... how long exactly do people live around these parts, anyway?"

Arwen smiled kindly. "He is one of the Dunedain. His life is about three times as long as the life of your average man."

"Well... that's certainly helpful in the romance department."

"It is?"

"Assuming everyone's still alive after this whole mess."

She nodded absently, her eyes travelling to the sword Buffy was comfortably carrying.

"It's light," Buffy said quietly, unsheathing the blade for Arwen to see.

"It is elf-made," she agreed. "Look how it catches the light. I had this one fashioned the way Men make theirs, but in an elven forge. Look how it catches the light... beautiful." She looked and sounded wistful.

"Is it yours?" Buffy asked.

Arwen shook her head. "I wish it were, but alas, I am not suited to swords and other weaponry popular among Men and Dwarves. I wield a sword if I must, but like most Eldar, I prefer the longbow." She looked to the bow, and Buffy blushed. It was the only weapon that had gone untouched.

"I'm a bit out of practice," she admitted.

"It's just as well," Arwen said lightly. "You must arm yourself with familiar weapons. Do not weigh yourself down with the whims of others."

"Speaking of, uh, arming myself... could I bother you with a change of clothes?"

"Oh, but of course! What were you considering for garments?"

"Boots, for one," Buffy said, grinning widely. "I haven't been wearing shoes at all, and I doubt that I won't need them."

"Leather boots. Done," Arwen nodded.

"Er, perhaps something easier to fight in?"

"I suppose you can't very well engage in a gown," Arwen sighed. "Though one does hope."

"Maybe something loose," Buffy offered. "Nothing tight to constrict movement, but—"

"A tunic would do well," Arwen muttered to herself, deep in thought. She looked Buffy up and down, as if quite literally sizing her up, and then began pacing. "But armor..."

"I don't think I need armor," Buffy said quickly. Arwen shot her a surprised look. Buffy sighed, explaining. "I'm strong and fast for a human. I was meant to fight. I don't think any skirmish could end in me getting hurt. Besides," she added to comfort Arwen's worrying gaze, "I doubt Aragorn or Legolas will be wearing any armor. If anything happens, I'll just jump behind Boromir and let him take most of the blow." This earned her an amused expression from Arwen, and the elf girl sighed.

"Alright, if you're very sure."

"Very," Buffy assured her.

After a brief pause, Arwen bid Buffy goodbye and promised to be back early the next morning with the articles of clothing.

"Arwen," Buffy called out.

The girl turned to Buffy with a curious glance.

"Thank you."

Flushing with pleasure at the unexpected gratitude, Arwen nodded and then left.

Buffy carefully placed the weapons on her bed away from her bed and flopped down onto it. Apparently it was now lunchtime because a very skittish she-elf came by and left a tray of food for her. Before Buffy had a chance to thank her, she scurried out of sight. Shrugging, Buffy ate and drank as much as she could, pausing briefly in between bites to enjoy the scenery outside her room. She had finished lunch quickly and started training. Afternoon turned to evening, and the same skittish she-elf came by to collect the tray she'd left, and returned not thirty minutes later with another tray for dinner. While she ate, Buffy eyed the clear crystal decanter filled with amber liquid suspiciously. She couldn't read the label as it was written in some weird language where all the letters looked the same (though wasn't that every language?), so after she'd eaten, she lifted the cap and sniffed it.

"It is wine," said a voice from behind her, and she shut the decanter with a clang and turned to face the voice. It was Legolas, and he had a soft, amused smile on his face. The way he was positioned outside her doorway made it seem like he had only been passing by when he spotted her. "It is from the city of Lake-town, east of Mirkwood. It seems that you are an honored guest, my Lady, if they offer it so freely and generously," he added, eyeing the amount, "to you. I myself did not receive any." He looked just a tiny bit miffed at the fact, though he admitted it freely.

"Oh. Uh, thanks," came Buffy's brilliant response.

"A word of unsolicited advice: drink it. They might take it as a slight if you do not."

"I don't believe in getting drunk the night before a fight. Not anymore, anyway," she added grudgingly, since it was not like she was incredibly prepared every night of her younger life.

"Does my Lady anticipate a fight on the morrow?" he asked with pleasurable amusement.

"No harm in being prepared. Still, I'd hate to offend the ones who have been so kind to me." Her lips quirked in a wry smile.

"It would be a shame if the wine were spilled and spoiled," Legolas noted gently.

"That it would. Oh, if only I had a companion who could join me in emptying this decanter."

"As we are companions, my Lady, I shall be more than happy to oblige."

"Oh, would you? I'd be so thankful."

"An elf has never turned down an offer of a drink. Especially not from an enchanting maiden such as yourself," he said with a grin.

"Why don't you have a seat, companion? Humor me for a moment."

He took the chair opposite her and filled both wine glasses with the amber fluid. "I live to serve, my Lady," he said coyly.

And so it was, for the first time of many times, Buffy and Legolas got very, very drunk together. As Legolas later told her and she later proved with her tastebuds, the wine from Lake-town was incredible. At some point they stumbled out and followed the path Buffy had taken earlier and made it to the waterfall, where Buffy had almost tripped and fell to her death where the white water curled and furled and met the rocks. Legolas, sober in the moment of impending danger, had swooped and caught her by one of her huge sleeves. They laughed and burped and chatted, Buffy only aware enough to make sure she didn't let slip anything about her being from another dimension. Apparently they were laughing a little _too_ loudly, because before they knew it, Aragorn descended upon them and yelled for a good half hour before sending them to bed. Shoulders slumped like scolded children, the three split ways, each to their own bed.

Buffy slipped under her borrowed covers, wondering sadly if Dawn was missing her right now. But the wine did not let her be sad too long, because sleep washed over her soon enough, claiming her as part of its domain for the remainder of the dark hours of night.

* * *

I hope you enjoyed that! I enjoyed writing it for the most part. It gets a little boring for me when I'm just copying the script, but I don't want too many discontinuities or there might be a riot... in my head. I think. Maybe. We'll see.

But seriously, I'd love to write more. Right now it looks like one chapter a week would be a good goal. Let's hope I can continue that. As always, criticism and corrections are welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is recognizably part of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer or the Lord of the Rings franchises.

Until next time,

Sharkbait Anna


	3. Two

Hi, everyone! I'm sorry this is a three days late; I ran into some issues with the flow and I needed the extra days to work things out. I know it's been almost half a week, but I promise I'll make it up to you... somehow. I'll have to think on that. I might as well warn you that I'm gonna be out of country for about three weeks. I'll try to write as much as I can so I can update twice next week and twice the week I come back, but no guarantees. My internet will be spotty at best, but I hope I can come through on this. Oh, and next week I'll be out for a couple days doing life stuff, so uhhh, wish me luck?

I'd like to give a huge thank you to my first reviewer, AphroditesSon! Your review was very meaningful to me, and I am so grateful for the feedback. I will try to live up to your expectations! :)

Also a thank you to B5B7. I believe I replied to your review, so thanks for leaving one! I'm really glad you took the time.

Now, on with the story!

* * *

Buffy was surprised that when she woke up, the hangover wasn't that bad. It was actually pretty tolerable given that it didn't exist. She numbly remembered that Legolas mentioning something about the elves favoring this wine above all others, and she understood why now. The lack of a hangover made the experience odd and a little surreal, but hey, why argue with what works?

She had gotten in about a half hour of training when Arwen showed up. She was wearing robes similar to the ones the day before, but now they were silver. The gown seemed to bring out the color in her cheeks, and her dark hair tumbled strikingly against it. The girl was a little quieter, but she had a knowing smile that threw Buffy off for a second.

"What is it?" Buffy asked, tilting her head to the side in a curious manner.

"You finished the wine," Arwen said with a small smirk.

"I—well, yeah," Buffy replied dumbly.

"I did not think you would finish it... alone," she added slowly.

"I didn't finish it alone."

"And I suppose it was just luck that I suggested our mutual friend Legolas take a stroll after dinner."

There was that knowing smile again, and Buffy burst out laughing.

"You knew!"

Arwen laughed softly, a quiet sound like little bells. "I knew," she agreed. The tips of her ears turned pink.

"How could you plan that? There were too many things that could have gone amiss." Buffy almost didn't recognize the words as her own, but decided to go along with it. Being in a different dimension had to change her in some ways, right?

"Well," she reasoned, "I had a feeling you would not drink without some prompting. And I also wanted Aragorn to myself before his departure." She blushed profusely, and Buffy grinned widely.

"Did everything go as planned?" Buffy asked innocently.

"A little too well." She grimaced as she spoke, and Buffy was suddenly reminded of the night before.

"Oh—uh, you don't mean the whole waterfall incident?"

"Waterfall?" Arwen spluttered, grey eyes widening in horror.

"Never mind," Buffy said quickly. With an internal groan she realized that Arwen probably meant how loud she and Legolas were being as they exchanged words, and how Aragorn came and told them off.

Arwen eyed the blonde suspiciously. "Most of those nearby were relieved that you were a lady of honor. Legolas is held in high respect in Rivendell, no matter how he chooses not to acknowledge it. Aragorn was relieved to find the two of you merely conversing with your robes intact. Though I had assured him you were a lady of honor," she added due to Buffy's frown.

"What did they think we were—oh." She coughed uncomfortably. "I'm not that kind of woman. I think."

Arwen nodded emphatically in agreement. "I know, my Lady. You are a Lady of honor, and we all know that (now, anyway)." She muttered the latter part before continuing with genuinely apologetic smile. "Aragorn is just a little suspicious, is all. He saw Boromir go after you earlier yesterday, and Legolas joining you only a few hours after, and so perhaps he is only paranoid of what he does not yet know."

Buffy shrugged. "I know I'll have to earn my respect around here. He's known me less than four and twenty hours; he'll have to get to know who I am on our quest, in any case." Buffy had spoken the words before she realized how weird they sounded. She had, of course, been forced to read books that stated twenty-four hours as 'four and twenty,' when Willow had found out how not well read she was, but she couldn't fathom the shift in her thoughts and spoken words. Each time they jumped out at her, and each time she forced herself to accept it as something that was just something that happened. She couldn't actively attempt to plan to _not_ say the words that made her sound like not herself because they were that random, and they had somehow become a part of who she was.

 _Or who I am here_ , she noted shrewdly.

She was brought out of her thoughts when Arwen offered her the bundle of clothing she'd walked in with and gave a small smile that suggested she had just asked a question.

"Sorry, what?" Buffy said, feeling a little guilty for not listening to her only friend (drinking buddies didn't really count as friends on account of the alcohol, she decided: everyone was different when drunk).

Arwen repeated herself without showing any sign of minding. "I asked my Lady whether she would like to see the clothing I have brought."

"Oh! That'd be splendid," Buffy heard herself saying. Arwen grinned and unwrapped the bundle for her to see, handing her the first article.

"The tunic," she explained. It was tan and long-sleeved and ran until mid-thigh. It was so light and thin, Buffy barely felt it on her fingertips. She smiled in thanks and Arwen blushed lightly. "And these are the trousers alongside it." She passed the second article, which Buffy quickly unfolded, relieved to see it was made from the same light material, and it would give her the room she needed for agile movement.

"Thanks, Arwen. They're great. Really." She wanted to hug Arwen, and then decided not to. And then she decided _what the hell_ and hugged her anyway.

Arwen stumbled backward for a moment before relaxing into the embrace. If she was puzzled by the sudden affection, she didn't show it. It seemed that the she-elf was beginning to recognize Buffy's oddities were parts of her, just as Aragorn's honor was a part of him, and Boromir's stubbornness was his own.

"Of course," she replied blithely, a small tingle in her tone sounding pleasantly relieved. "Oh!" she cried suddenly, a look of slight horror affecting her face. "I almost forgot: leather boots, just as you requested."

Buffy had to hold back from lunging for the boots. They were beautifully crafted, and, as Arwen had promised, in fully bound leather. They were thick and a light brown and they smelled like a cobbler's shop (or what she imagined a cobbler's shop would smell like, anyway).

"Ugh, they're gorgeous," Buffy swooned.

"Aren't they?" Arwen said with a small hint of jealousy.

"They are," Buffy sighed, staring at them. No more wandering around barefoot, she promised herself.

"Oh, and here are your wraps for your bosom." Arwen handed her the rest of the bundle, and Buffy thanked her greatly.

"From my bosom friend," she quipped.

"Indeed," Arwen replied, her expression revealing an amused look.

"I think I'll just go change then," Buffy said, trying to keep the glee out of her voice.

"Well, the folding screen is just behind you. I'll wait here in case you are in need of my assistance."

Buffy looked behind her and noticed that there was indeed a folding screen. She had just thought it was a decorative piece because it looked so... decorative, but she stepped behind it and began to disrobe. She found that the chest wrapping was actually fauch irly simple and acted more like a sports bra than anything else. She suspected that Arwen had it modified for athletic purposes; it wouldn't make sense to wear something so tightening unless you were constantly moving around (which Buffy suspected she would be). She found that she could tighten and loosen it as she liked, which was pretty comforting. After slipping on an undershirt that went with the tunic and shorts that went with the trousers, Buffy fitted on the rest of her clothing and emerged from behind the folding screen. An expectant Arwen awaited her, grinning when her eyes set on the small blonde.

"You look incredible," she mused.

"I feel so much better," Buffy replied, stretching a little. She strapped into her leather boots, noting how comfortable they were. "I feel like I'm home again, actually. Kind of." It was true: the pants she wore reminded her briefly of the slacks she often wore, though they were less restricting than the ones back home. She ached for some denim, but that would have to wait until she was done in Middle Earth. Or possibly until she was done in general with this whole saving other worlds thing.

"Women do not wear gowns where you are from?" Arwen asked, eyes shining with curiosity.

Buffy thought for a moment. "Some women do. Some don't. It's a matter of personal preference."

"I should very much like to visit your land," Arwen said, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

"I am not sure that is possible," Buffy replied apologetically, "but I would love to take you there if I could." _Though it might surprise you more than you'd think_ , she added silently.

"Fair enough," Arwen agreed, her gaze flicking towards the weapons on the table.

Buffy took that as an invitation to stock up, so she started toward the throwing knives and stuffed them carefully into her boots, taking care to not nick her skin with the blades. They came with thin cloth sheaths, so it wasn't so bad, and she could move comfortably with them against her legs. Her pants were tucked into the boots anyhow, so the knives had a little more free movement. Next she took the sword and clasped it to the belt that she fastened around her waist. It hung low to he calves, but she didn't really mind. In any case, it made her look badass. She took the axe and tied it to the other side of the belt. After a moment of deliberation, Buffy took a couple more knives and stuffed them around her waistband. When she turned around, Arwen had gone. Surprised both at the she-elf leaving so uncharacteristically abruptly and at the fact that Buffy hadn't heard her leave, Buffy's mouth curved in a small frown. Just as she was about to turn back to her knives, Arwen returned.

"I almost forgot this. Forgive me, my Lady."

"There is nothing to forgive," Buffy murmured, taking the proffered cloak gently. She threw it around her shoulders and fastened it at the neck. It was wide enough to cover her arms and short enough to not brush the ground when she walked. The color was the grey of Arwen's eyes and it was not heavy in the slightest. She beamed at Arwen.

"Thank you. I can't thank you enough. For the weapons, the clothes... for your hospitality."

Arwen blushed and shook her head. "Is that not what friends are meant to do?"

"I'm glad I've found a friend in you," Buffy replied earnestly.

"And I in you," Arwen agreed, a pleasant rosiness in her cheeks.

There was a moment of agreeable silence before Buffy chose to break it with the growling of her stomach.

"Come, my Lady. Let us break our fast together this morn." Arwen tugged Buffy's elbow lightly. Buffy offered her arm jokingly, in slight mockery of gentlemen, but to her surprise Arwen took it with no hesitation.

The two women strode gracefully into the corridor, walking the halls of Rivendell in the brisk autumn morning. Buffy had some suspicion that Arwen was taking her on the scenic route, but she made no comment as they passed room after room and walked hallway after hallway. After what seemed like ages, they arrived at a dining area decorated with foliage that seemed to be the trademark of elven design. Arwen curtsied as she greeted her father and Gandalf, who were seated already at one end of the table. Buffy followed suit, though it felt odd not to do so in a skirt. The two old friends nodded kindly in acknowledgement and Arwen dragged Buffy to the other end. She sat at the very end of the long table, directly opposite her father (as she and he were both hosts, Buffy guessed).

Buffy sat next to her friend and talked quietly with her about the beauty of Rivendell until people entering distracted her. Aragorn smiled as he entered, and he paid his respects to the others before joining Buffy and Arwen (he sat next to Arwen, of course, which happened to be opposite Buffy). He nodded to her solemnly and she suddenly noticed that he was freakishly tall. Legolas sat next to Aragorn, and while Buffy had known he was tall as well, he was as tall as his friend. Huffing quietly, Arwen noticed her friend's shifted mood and sent her a questioning look.

"Why are those two so tall?" she asked quietly, unwilling to draw any more attention to herself.

Arwen's eyes brightened in a laugh that she did not voice. "Aragorn's life is longer due to him being of an unbroken line of the Dunedain... his height may also be attributed to his lineage. As for Legolas, he is a Sindarin elf. They are tall in their own right. Though I do think the honorable Boromir—"

Buffy scoffed, a sound Arwen's elf ears did not miss.

"Er—venerated?"

"Even worse."

"Skilled?"

"Nah."

"Great?"

"No way. Nothing about that guy is great."

"...Adept?"

"Nope."

"Then what do you suggest?" Arwen's voice had taken on a softly challenging tone.

"Hmm." Buffy thought for a moment. "Competent."

Arwen once again looked as if she were holding back a laugh and continued: "The—er, _competent_ —Boromir is taller than Legolas, due to his lineage as well, but as I mentioned before, Aragorn's line is unbroken. Boromir's is... less so."

"Boromir seems a little less so anyway," Buffy humphed.

Aragorn, who had been talking to Legolas all this time, caught Buffy's muffled words. "Do you not like Boromir, Lady Buffy?"

"It's just Buffy," Buffy replied quietly. "And no, I really don't." She caught Legolas' eye and the elf inclined his head as if to acknowledge her silent plea, but they were interrupted before the blonde elf could say a word.

"You don't what, Buffy?" Boromir asked innocently, slipping into the seat beside Buffy. Buffy bristled, internally smacking herself for not having someone sit there before he did. The Hobbits were already there, after all, as was Gimli the dwarf. Boromir had been the last of the company to arrive.

"It's Lady to you," Buffy said bluntly, letting him know that he didn't have the privilege of making her acquaintance anymore.

He wasn't deterred by her cold tone, to Buffy's dismay. "Have I offended my Lady in any disagreeable way?"

"One could say that all offense is disagreeable," Buffy replied slyly, skirting the question. "If you have offended me, it is none of my concern whether you redeem yourself in my eyes; that is your decision and your decision alone, _sir_."

"My Lady does not speak to me with the gentlest of words," Boromir noted, smiling in a way that made Buffy want to punch him.

Much to the dismay of Gimli, who looked like he wanted to watch a fight, she didn't.

"Your Lady does not speak gently, and only the kindest of people deserve the gentlest of words, in her view."

"Buffy, you seem to have acquired appropriate garments for our journey," Legolas thankfully cut in. As the food began to arrive, Buffy nodded happily.

"Lady Arwen was kind enough to help me."

Aragorn smiled and relaxed noticeably as he glanced at Arwen with a certain romantic fondness.

"I must say," Legolas said to Buffy quietly as those at the table began to bustle. "I am surprised you are not more affected by our indulgence last night."

"Did you want me to be hung over our first day journeying?" she asked with amusement filling her tone.

"Of course not," he said hastily. "One may wonder, however... you are powerful, indeed, if such a wine does not affect you."

"They say you can hold your liquor well, Legolas," Aragorn said cheerfully. Buffy raised a brow at his sudden mood change when her eyes traveled down his arm and she saw that he and Arwen were moving in sync. Buffy realized that they were holding hands under the table and she sent a wink Arwen's way. The she-elf caught it with a light blush, but Aragorn, Legolas, and Boromir were listening to Gimli claim that he could hold his liquor better than some elf could.

Aragorn listened politely, while Boromir shrugged and openly disagreed. Legolas ended the argument shortly by suggesting that he and Gimli have a drinking contest sometime, and Gimli seemed satisfied at the prospect. As the company ate and drank (water and milk, of course, for it was only eight in the morning), they spoke pleasantly with one another (and when it came to the case of Boromir and Buffy, civilly on Buffy's part and nonchalantly on Boromir's). When all had finished, Buffy gave Arwen a quick hug goodbye, promising to see her again if she could. Arwen smiled sadly and nodded, and Buffy dragged Legolas away from Aragorn so the two lovers could have some time together. Legolas glanced at Buffy with amusement, eyeing her apparel and nodding in approval. He himself was donned in light clothes, whereas Boromir wore heavy cloths and chainmail.

"That will not sustain you in a fight," he commented dubiously, his gaze stopping on Buffy for a moment.

"It will in a fight against you," Buffy challenged.

"My Lady, Boromir is highly revered even among his enemies," Legolas said quietly to Buffy.

Buffy rolled her eyes and stood her ground stubbornly. "Please. I would have to hold back so I didn't kill him."

"Have you killed before?" Boromir questioned.

"Not men," was all Buffy said.

Boromir grumbled something to himself as Legolas looked as if deep in thought.

"If not men, then who, my Lady?" asked one of the Hobbits. She recognized him as Merry.

"Just Buffy is fine."

"I believe you did not answer the question," Boromir noted.

She swiveled to face him with a cold stare. "I don't kill men. Do you know what I kill, Boromir? I don't think you want to imagine, but I'll tell you anyway. I kill the things in your nightmares that make your blood run cold. I've killed things you would never believe much less understand, and all while staying young and pretty. I can't say the same for you, unfortunately," she sneered. "People like me don't like past five and twenty, yet here I am. So when I say that I could punch you so hard in the temple that'd you be concussed before you hit the ground, you might want to believe me."

To this, Boromir had no response, so Buffy made her way to Elrond to say goodbye. She thanked him and he solemnly nodded, a small smile on his face. His expression darkened and he warned her to keep her identity under wraps. She agreed and then rejoined the companions.

The ten hiked a steep trail and hightailed out of Rivendell. They traveled for some time without making much conversation. They across the high moor just beyond the reach of Rivendell, where the wind whistled through the abundant purple flowers. Buffy stopped to pick one, stuffed it in her boot, and then continued at the pace of the company as if there had been no interruption. From the position of the sun, Buffy deduced that they were going south, to which she made no protest. It only unnerved her a little that she had no idea where she was and where she was going. She would just have to adapt like she always did.

The clothes that Arwen had given her were a blessing. They made the traveling light and easy and Buffy's cloak helped immensely when cool breezes bit at her skin. She felt a little bad for Boromir, who was weighed down by his chain mail and heavy cloak. But then she remembered how much of a butt he had been in their first one-on-one and she felt almost chipper. As they companions walked, Buffy began to notice mountains rising on their left, and she had a bad feeling about them, majestic as they were. There was something there that she didn't want to know about them. A dark feeling rose in her chest and caused her stomach to churn. She hoped she never had to find out what lurked in the depths of those peaks.

She almost ran into Aragorn before realizing that they all had stopped. It was well into the afternoon, Buffy realized. While she had had no problem, there were others who might tire. Gandalf seemed to think for a moment before allowing the company to rest. Samwise started to prepare food and Buffy realized sheepishly that she was a little hungry, despite having eaten her weight in food at Rivendell. She approached the Hobbit gently, nudging him lightly with her elbow as she crouched to where he sat on the ground.

"Need a little help?" she asked. "I'm not much for cooking, but I can follow orders." She smiled at him kindly.

He shook his head. "Thank you, my Lady—"

"Just Buffy," she reminded him.

"Buffy," he repeated uncertainly. "Thank you for your offer. If I need any, you'll be the first to know."

"Alright, then, Samwise."

"Sam," he corrected quietly, sending her a welcoming smile.

"Sam," she nodded in understanding.

"For the little ones who would like to learn to fend for themselves, over here!" Boromir called out a little ways away. Buffy stopped herself from scoffing and slowly walked over.

"Why, my Lady," Boromir bowed insincerely, "it is truly humbling to have you train with us."

"Just because you're half a foot taller does _not_ mean I'm short," Buffy huffed, then added in a low voice, "Dunedain blood, my ass."

"My Lady, you shock me with the coarseness of your words."

"Please continue with yours, Boromir. I've been itching to hit something hard. Maybe you are hardheaded enough to do the trick."

"My Lady continues to offend my honor with her words."

"Draw your sword to defend yourself."

Buffy unsheathed her broadsword, for some reason relieved that it was still very light. Boromir looked surprised for a moment before unsheathing his own. They stepped to the side, mirroring each others movements. They stayed the same length apart, stepping in the circular pattern of duelers.

"I do not like to hurt women," Boromir commented.

"Nor I men, but sometimes earning respect is worth more."

"Is it? What would you do to earn respect?"

"Anything that's worth the risk."

"And is this? Is this worth the risk."

"This?" Buffy said with a wild grin. "This is no risk."

She lunged, stepping forward with great speed and her sword _clang_ ed loudly against his. He stumbled backward for a moment, surprised by the force with which she attacked but recovered quickly and returned with a quick parry that was not enough to shield from her blow. Buffy lunged again, forcing Boromir to step back. His peripheral vision told him that there were rocks near his right and if he could just get her there, he could corner her. He countered this time with his own attack at her midsection, but despite his blade being thicker and heavier and him being taller and more muscled, she fought him off with irksome ease.

As they neared the rocks, their swords meeting more times than he cared to count, he realized that Buffy had used his own plan against him: she had him trapped him between herself and the rocks. And while she was smaller in comparison, she suddenly seemed very large blocking his way. Sensing his hesitation, she swung down upon him, aiming for his head, and he brought his sword up to stop her, gritting his teeth in exertion as her blade kept advancing toward his brow. Buffy knew it was risky exposing her stomach the way she was, but Boromir couldn't very well strike her there without a serious head injury. And while she would never crown the head of Boromir the Boastful, one did not simply sacrifice the king for the cavalry. In a single movement that went too quickly for him to anticipate, Buffy turned on her heel toward his chest, her back against him as she shoved his sword craftily from his reach. It flew and landed in the grass, and she completed her turn, rounding on him fully. Her sword aimed at his neck, he gave her a weary (or was it wary?) look and she inched her blade toward the ground.

"Antagonize me again, I dare you. Next time, I won't hold back." The venom in her voice was perhaps a bit much, but if she was to earn any respect from burly Boromir, she would have to exaggerate her abilities. In truth, it had been a long trek from Rivendell, and Buffy was actually a bit tired. She could have used twenty minutes in the grass instead of a tourney with Boromir, but it was important for her to set the tone of her relationship before he continues to treat her gently. If they were to be companions (though Buffy doubted he would be bouncing back from his recent defeat quickly), then they would have to establish a working relationship. If he continued to think her incapable, he would either never defend her out of spite (not very likely) or defend her too much out of pity (far more likely).

"I am not a dishonorable man, my Lady," Boromir voiced finally. Buffy fixed him with a blank stare, which he took as an invitation to continue. "It is uncommon in my city for a noblewoman such as yourself to be well-versed in battle strategy, but I understand now that you are not from my city, and so I cannot hold you to the standards of a Gondorian woman."

"It is my occupation to rid the world of evil," Buffy replied in a tone a tad gentler than she had been previously. "As I mentioned before, people like me don't live past twenty-five. I'm fortunate to have gotten this far without so much as a scar. Then, of course, there are emotional scars, but I don't think I need to explain to you how those come about."

"Indeed, my Lady. War changes a man just as it does a woman. I see that now."

"Just Buffy."

He gave her a weak smile, something that looked like a cross between a grimace and a genuine grin.

She decided that if Sam's cooking smelled good enough from thirty feet away, it would smell even better if she ate some of it. She then walked away from Boromir and his feeble smile and joined Legolas and Aragorn (she'd recently started calling them "Tower Twins" because they were always together) at Sam's makeshift table. As the companions ate, Boromir once again being the last of them to join, they fell into a comfortable sort of quiet. The Hobbits were talking among themselves, and Buffy heard her name in the mix once or twice, which to her suggested that she'd had quite an audience when she'd confronted Boromir. The Tower Twins were speaking softly in a language Buffy now recognized as Elvish. As much as she would have liked to know what they were saying, she didn't know how long she would be here, and learning a new language in a world she barely knew seemed like a stretch.

After their meal, Pippin and Merry decided that they wanted to learn to defend themselves. Boromir started training them on proper technique. Legolas had finally separated from his friend and was now conversing amiably (oddly enough, given the ancient quarrel betwixt elves and dwarves) with Gimli. Aragorn sat upon the rocks near the spot where Buffy had cornered Boromir, so Buffy sat next to him. He glanced at her as he smoked his pipe, and his eyes froze on her cloak.

"I know," she said to him softly. "They remind you of her eyes, don't they?"

He looked startled at her astute observation and quickly looked away. "Have I offended you, my Lady?"

"Are you the first man to look upon me and see another woman? No, Aragorn. Nor will you be the last. I am not offended in the least. Just promise me one thing: do you love her?"

"If a Man's heart were capable of properly loving such a magnificent creature, I would. Since no Man is worthy of her, I can only say that I try."

"Good enough for me," Buffy decided. "Promise me you'll take care of her. She loves you, you know." Buffy stared into his blue eyes, searching for his intent.

He gazed in return in complete earnest. "To the best of my ability. On my life or death, should it ever come to question."

"She really is something," Buffy murmured, turning her head to watch Pippin's progress.

"Get away from the blade, Pippin... on your toes," Boromir was saying. "Good, very good. I want you to react, not think." Buffy was a bit appalled at his advice, but she supposed that an instinctual response was sometimes the difference between life and death.

"Should not be too hard," she heard Sam say quietly to Frodo. The corner of Buffy's mouth twitched.

"Move your feet," Aragorn instructed.

"Quite good, Pippin," Merry congratulated.

"Thanks!" Pippin replied cheerfully.

Pippin began again with Boromir, and immediately Buffy noticed his mistake.

"Keep your arms up," she called out. When he failed for the third time, she jumped down from the rocks and started towards him. She signaled Boromir to hold his blade for a moment, and he ceded the floor to her. "You're just a beginner right now, Pippin, but this is the difference between dead and alive. I'm assuming you want to stay alive?"

The Hobbit, two feet shorter than her, nodded.

"Alright, then," she continued. "Most amateur men fight with their arms too low, exposing their chest. Women tend to keep their arms too high, exposing the abdomen. Now, your belly is a very soft area, and while chain mail is all good and fun, you can't afford to risk a gash to the belly. By the time you've come up with a half-good tactic, your innards will be spilling into the grass. So for now, work on your footwork and keeping your arms above your waistline. I know the sword is heavy, but chances are you can use that and speed to create momentum that will throw off your opponent. Are we understood?"

"You are a well-seasoned fighter, Buffy," Boromir commented. Pippin merely nodded in agreement, though Buffy wasn't entirely sure he'd understood it all. Then again, the mischievous grin he sported should have been enough to tell her.

"I've been fighting for my life since I was fifteen," she said with a shrug. "You pick up a few things in eleven years."

" _Fiftee_ —I must say, I am astonished." Boromir caught himself in time and decided to say the least sexist thing he could think of, which was all fine with Buffy. She appreciated his newfound respect for her, though it might have had something to do with almost cleaving his head in two.

Again, she shrugged off this comment. "Isn't that about the age of a squire, give or take a year? It's not so unimaginable." Damn Willow and her compulsory lessons in medieval logic: the information was proving to be quite useful. Buffy would have to remember to thank her when she got back.

 _If_ she got back, a nasty voice in the back of her mind said. She waved it off, bringing herself back to the present.

"Just so," was all Boromir had the gall to say.

The two began again, Pippin vastly improving. However, as improved as he was, Boromir managed to catch him on the hand.

"Oi!" Pippin yelled. He threw his blade down (much to Buffy's chagrin) and kicked Boromir's shin. Buffy burst into laughter as the half-sized Hobbit tackled the grown man to the ground, Merry joining in. Boromir soon laughed as well, Aragorn's thoughtful chuckle being heard from a few feet away.

"What is that?" came Sam's slightly panicked voice. Buffy followed his gaze and spotted a fast-approaching loud. It was big and dark and grey and it didn't seem all too friendly. Something about it made Buffy want to hide.

"Nothing," Gimli replied, waving it off. "Just a wisp of cloud."

Gandalf looked to Legolas, who was peering at it cautiously. "Crebain from Dunland!" the blonde elf exclaimed, which seemed to mean something to everybody except Buffy and the Hobbits.

"Hide!" Aragorn urged. Sam put out his cooking fire and ran to Boromir when he called.

"Merry, Pippin, Sam—take cover!" Boromir took the Hobbits and hid with them. Buffy crouched near them, seeking shelter from the rocks.

The cloud turned out to be a murder (Buffy hadn't taken many classes in college, but Poe Literature had been one of them) of crows. The birds flocked together and seemed to go around their hiding spot before taking off in the direction they'd come from after a single terrible croak.

Gandalf emerged first, looking worried. "Spies of Saruman. Our passage south is being watched."

"Who's that?" Buffy asked. The rest of the company looked at her incredulously.

"He is the Head of the White Council, the Lord of Isengard. He is... was," Gandalf corrected reluctantly, "the chief of my order. And now he is turned against us and allied with Sauron."

"Oh, great," Buffy said sarcastically. "I just love it when people decide to side with evil."

Gandalf looked to Aragorn, who nodded. "We must take the pass of Caradhras!" As he spoke, the old wizard gestured to the snowy mountains, and Buffy's stomach plummeted, heart hammering in an obscenely loud manner.

"No," she whispered. No one heard her, for they were all packing up and getting ready for the journey through the mountains. As the company left their road south, Buffy longed for the respite one last time. Pushing through the desire to lay down in the soft, soft grass, she made it to the head of the group, following just behind Gandalf. Soon night fell and they set up camp at the bottom of a valley, Buffy insisting on being on the first watch. She was joined by Gimli, and they both sat in the stretch of silence.

"I've never met a dwarf," she admitted about an hour into their watch.

"I've never met a human such as you, my Lady."

"You must call me Buffy, if we are to be companions."

"I've never met a human such as you, Buffy."

"What are the mines like?" she asked suddenly.

Gimli seemed surprised at the sudden question, but he turned to the night sky before answering. His face bathed in moonlight, he spoke. "The mines... they were built by my people. There is an ancient power that stirs in them. That is the magic of the dwarves. I will be frank, my Lad—Buffy. The mines are dark, often damp, and are not for the faint of heart. The strength and agility required to sustain them and traverse them are uncommon in Men, and even more so in Elves. We are said to be greedy creatures, us Dwarves, but Buffy, if we were greedy creatures the entirety of Middle Earth would not be so rich. Long have Men been seeking the riches we've exhumed from the ground, and long have we been supplying them."

"Do you miss the mines?" Buffy asked after the silence that followed his passionate words.

"The night makes me miss it less," he answered. "But home is home, and there is not another thing to match it."

"Is that why you wanted Gandalf to go through the mines?"

"Ah, you heard that, did you?"

"Half of Rivendell heard that."

He chuckled. "Balin would take it as a slight if we did not pass through his mines. Moria has been empty for decades, but in recent years my cousin has been exploring. He plans to repopulate the city. Make it for the dwarves again."

"Was it not for the dwarves before?" Buffy asked curiously.

"Alas, the city was tainted for centuries." He offered no other explanation.

The two shared a pleasant silence until the Tower Twins came and relieved them of their duties. Buffy's sleep brought no peace, however. Her dreams were troubled and caused her to wake without feeling rested at all. And so the pattern continued: the company woke, walked, ate, rested, trained, walked some more slept, and then woke again each day until they reached the snowy mountains. Buffy woke each morning feeling less and less rested, which probably greatly contributed to her irritability as they traveled. Her mood soured with each passing day, and a headache pounded against her skull. They were now hiking through the snow, and only her leather boots kept her thankful. While her clothes were warm enough, they were not made for the cold the altitude would soon bring on.

Despite her foul mood, Buffy began to appreciate the companions more and more. Gimli and Legolas had taken it upon themselves to tell Buffy and dwarves and elves, respectively (though when each described the other race, it was not so respectfully). Boromir had taken a liking to Merry and Pippin, as both were eager to learn more about sword-fighting. Sam and Frodo seemed to prefer the company of Aragorn and Gandalf, and Buffy couldn't blame them, as they seemed most familiar with those two.

Though she mostly stayed by the dwarf and the elf, Buffy often found her pace matching that of Boromir's, and they often compared combat strategy. It seemed that Gondor's soldiers were not taught hand-to-hand as Buffy was, which sort of made sense since they were almost always armed. However, when Buffy pointed out that it also made them lazier, Boromir could not argue: he understood that, though it was unlikely for his sword to leave his hand, to be unarmed was to be dead. In a show of true humbleness, Boromir entreated Buffy to train with him; and in a show of true forgiveness, Buffy obliged.

So it came as quite a surprise to her when, on the tenth day of their journey, Boromir picked up the One Ring by its gold chain from the snow after Frodo had slipped on shale and was scrambling to find it. Aragorn stepped warily towards Boromir, who stared at the simple piece of jewelry, transfixed.

"Boromir?" Aragorn murmured, watching the brutish man closely.

"It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing... such a little thing," Boromir said, peering at it in a way that reminded Buffy of the first time she'd seen him set eyes on it.

"Boromir," said Aragorn quietly. "Give the Ring to Frodo." His hand moved slowly to the hilt of his sword in anticipation.

An odd smile, almost malicious, flooded Boromir's features. Then his eyes snapped to Frodo's outstretched palm and he slowly gave it to the Hobbit.

"As you wish," he replied smoothly in a light tone, careless in a forced manner. "I care not."

Frodo tucked the Ring back into his breast pocket and the companions carried on through the mountains.

After what seemed like hours of hiking, a blizzard came out of nowhere and began to blow them this way and that. Legolas, whose elf nature did not let him sink into the snow, started helping the Hobbits (along with Gimli, who would never admit to such a heinous thing as being helped by an elf) in the snow so they wouldn't get buried. Buffy was holding her own fairly well, but it wasn't a picnic by any measure.

Suddenly, Legolas perked up, advancing ahead of the company and squinting into the winds. "There is a fell voice in the air," he called out to them, a frown curving his lips in worry.

"It's Saruman!" Gandalf confirmed.

The sky thundered and rocks of shale and snow fell from above. Buffy ducked, pulling Pippin on her right closer to her quickly.

"He's trying to bring down the mountain," Aragorn realized. "Gandalf! We must turn back!" he shouted at the top of his lungs.

"No!" Gandalf protested. The grey wizard then began to chant into the wind in a language Buffy didn't recognize. "Sleep, Caradhras. Be still, lie still, hold your wrath!"

And then she heard it—a voice as clear as fog was persuading the mountain with sick, twisted words, seducing the mountain to its will. Lightning cracked and snow fell, aiming for the company as Buffy jerked Pippin by his cloak. They all took cover by backing up against the mountain itself. Snow began to bury them and Buffy took a deep breath, grimacing as she grasped for Pippin's hand through the snow. Then she felt it sharply taken away from her and fear took her heart.

Buffy cursed, and just as she was about to try to move her hands through the snow in a mock butterfly stroke, she was pulled out as well.

She shrieked, shivering from head to toe, her clothes soaked thanks to the snow. She nodded grimly at Legolas, thanking him for the embarrassing lift. He tilted his head toward her in acknowledgement and then proceeded to pull out Sam from the snow. She didn't know exactly how he knew where they all were, since tufts of Sam's hair were not a shock of color through the snow (they—the Hobbits and Gimli, at least—had all been covered very well by the snow), but Buffy just attributed it to his mysterious elf senses and left it at that.

"We must get off the mountain!" Boromir insisted. "Make for the gap of Rohan and take the West road to my city."

"The gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard," Aragorn pointed out.

"We cannot pass over the mountain," Gimli argued. "Let us go under it. Let us go through the mines of Moria!"

With a visage of concern, Gandalf said warily, "Let the Ringbearer decide."

Frodo looked away, down at the snow. The poor Hobbit was still shivering from being buried alive, and Buffy didn't blame him.

"Frodo?" Gandalf prompted.

He met Gandalf's gaze. "We will go through the mines," he decided.

Gandalf nodded in acceptance. "So be it." He didn't seem too happy at the prospect, and despite Gimli's enthusiasm, Buffy wasn't either.

Though the mountains had given her a bad feeling, going underground through nearly uninhabited mines seemed a lot worse. At least here they were out in the open. As they descended into a path with less snow and more grime, the company didn't stop to rest for the night, instead deciding to carry on until they reached the comfort of the mines. They traveled an unmarked path and came upon a dark lake.

"I need to bathe," Buffy said wistfully, gazing at the water. "I wish the lake were clear."

"Even if it were, I doubt it would be safe," Boromir replied cynically.

Buffy, as it so happened, got exactly as she wished, because at that moment she slipped and fell into the lake. She broke through the top layer of the water, gasping for breath. She reached for the shore, but something began to pull her under.

" _Buffy_!"

And the last thing she heard was her own scream, and the water filled her lungs as the forceful tug drowned her entirely.

* * *

I'm sorry that was a little shorter than the last installment. I promise to write something better and longer than this chapter. I'll have to go back and edit this, as I'm not quite satisfied with it yet. Sorry again for being so late! And, uh, the ending here will be explained soon! Let me know what you think of the characters, and if my interpretation goes along with the canon.

Oh, also, about the pacing... it's a little wonky. And I'm working on it.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is recognizably part of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer or the Lord of the Rings franchises.

Until next time!

Sharkbait Anna :)


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